Dylan’s p.o.v.
The knock on the war room doors was sharp and deliberate, echoing through the tense silence. My beta, Seth, paused mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes. “Who dares interrupt?” he muttered, his tone reflecting the mood in the room—wary and irritable.
On the contrary, I had been in the war room for the past two days, making preparations for my departure to the Ravine, since my return from the castle.
“Enter,” I commanded, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The doors creaked open, revealing a young messenger. His chest heaved as though he’d run the entire way, and his wide eyes darted nervously before finally settling on me.
“Alpha Dylan,” he said, bowing low. “A message from the King’s castle.” He uttered.
The room went silent, the weight of the king’s autho
